shooty

Nowadays bros just be grinding for money
Old school days didnt care bout cash
Sitting in suits tailored to myself
With a neat whisky, zoot billed with hash
Here on my ones bags filled with stacks
I don't keep waps where i keep my stash
Twenty bag deals in O twenty-three
Wait O thirty im doubling racks

Ever wonder why they call it the trap?
Believe me bro ain't making it out
Distanced myself from a life like that
No distance when i be breaking it down
Bro got locked at fourteen years for a cro shot loud
Bro ain't breaking him out
Make your point you might end up dead
He lost his life by messing with loud

Pull up and the whole block dashing
How the fuck can they say their active?
Chattings, they weren't on shit when i
E go grab it, that's why shh turnt packet
Push my ting in a pussy
Pull back out all i hear is screaming
They looked at the score bored, started teaming
Got some reasons why - needs healing

Dumb way how he felt his brucy
Her wap come juicy
Jumped out the hoopty, shooty
Let a boy cap, i swear he's a groupie
Red lights bro we ain't watching a movie
Who's he, irrelavant dog like snoopy
Slap man with his cutie
Do opps still get some pussy?
I made my homeboy start trapping his

Made our own way from
Open the door this house that i'm in
Sit in the couch laid back with a spliff
Not really sure which sound to pick
Walk out my crib my joint keep burning
Dap my bros go shops real quick
Talk down on me must be thick
Trynna run fast watch your shoes might trip

After shops go LC's crib making some raps then i go back asleep
Nah bro stay there with my bros
We close, got a beat on we styling free
Shit i mean free styling when we cut through
If we are bros i'd spud you
If we ain't imma leave when you come through
After this song come hate you love you



Credits
Writer(s): Oliver Linden
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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